


Sinning Feels Like Heaven

by MyBellaLove16



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBellaLove16/pseuds/MyBellaLove16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows that he should stop, he should pull away, lock those feelings inside of himself and throw the key into the lava pits of Mustafar… but he can’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinning Feels Like Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Rated: NC-17. This is rough but absolutely consensual m/m PWP.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars. If I did then AO would have been canon and not just a most desired fantasy.
> 
> I Blame: YouTube. I don’t know what it was, was it the song, the clips or the commentary… but somehow an “implied slash /wincest” video gave me the feels. 
> 
> Song Suggestion(s): Listen to either Relax My Beloved by Alex Clare or Angel by Massive Attack. 
> 
> AN: This is kinda but not really incest. Confused? It’s okay. You can imagine them as actual brothers, in blood, or just raised like brothers. Either way works. I just had this idea in my head and I couldn’t stop it. I wrote this in one night so all of the mistakes in this are mine and mine alone. There is blood and sex and… sex. This is pwp pure and simple. Remember *thoughts like this* are spoken in their minds.

This is wrong.

So very wrong. Ten thousand kinds of wrong.

He’s sinning. Pure and simple sinning. There’s no way to deny it.

But he can’t stop. He knows that he should stop, he should pull away, lock those feelings inside of himself and throw the key into the lava pits of Mustafar… but he can’t.

All he can do is fall fall fall fall. Fall into his lover’s arms. Fall into the embrace that the other offers so freely. Fall down onto the flesh inside him.

Rise and fall. Rise and fall.

Obi-Wan throws his head back, letting out a grunt as Anakin thrust up into him again. Those hands, one durasteel and the other human flesh, bite into his hips, holding him captive and then raising him up, only to yank down again. It’s almost too much. Anakin is pounding so hard up into him that Obi-Wan can hardly let out a stable breath, his skin is slick with sweat and he can’t stop the mewls and grunts of pleasure that escape his mouth.

It’s almost brutal, this bonding that they’re doing. But they would have it any other way.

Anakin lets out a strangled cry of his own as his blue eyes, mad with lust meet Obi-Wan’s blue-grey eyes, darkened with his own lust. “Obi-Wan,” he whispers. The sound is so quite, buried within the symphony that is their lovemaking, the barks of pleasure, the slapping of hips, the sound of their slick skin sliding against each other, but Obi-Wan hears it. He shouldn’t be able to, but he does.

“Anakin,” he replies, gasping out the name like a prayer.

“Say it,” Anakin says, his voice raising to be heard over their bodies clearly. He bits his lip and his eye roll back into his head as Obi-Wan grips his inner muscles, tightening around his cock, goading him towards climax.

“No,” Obi-Wan cries, shaking his head from side to side lazily. He can hardly hold himself steady. He’s going to collapse any second now; going to fall even further. His auburn hair sticks to his sweaty face and he grips harder onto Anakin’s shoulders.

“Say it!” Anakin barks, coming undone. He’s so close, Obi-Wan can feel it in the way his thrusts become less precise, more desperate and frantic. He needs something more to fall over that edge. And he knows that his auburn haired lover on top of him, giving him this pleasure, will give it to him.

“Can—can’t. I can’t,” Obi-Wan whimpers, feeling himself tighten involuntarily, feeling that pressure in his groin, about to be released. Pre-come drips from the tip of his cock and onto Anakin’s skin. They both let out a long and half-crazed moan at the sight.

“Please,” Anakin begs. His hands are digging into the skin of Obi-Wan’s hips, little crescent moon made by his fingernails darken at the pressure. His durasteel hand cuts through and draws small drops of blood.

The older man lets out a choked gasp at the familiar feel of blood dripping down his hip. He looks down, sees the crimson drops sliding down his pale hip, shocking against the gleaming metal of Anakin’s prostatic hand.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin gasps.

_*Soclosesoclosewantmorewantitpleaseobiwaniwantitwant*_

The stab of Anakin’s thoughts through his mind has Obi-Wan mewling out in a daze of pleasure and pain. He releases his own mental barriers, letting his mind say what he wants his lips to speak. What he knows in his soul but he can’t say aloud, not just yet.

_*I love you. I love you. I love you.*_

_*Thank you.*_ Anakin’s mental relief is pure bliss at the admission.

Anakin drives up into Obi-Wan, each thrust sending the other man’s hips up and then crashing back down. Anakin holds onto Obi-Wan’s hips hard as the auburn haired man leans down, tangling one hand into the sheets beside Anakin’s head while the other curls into his hair. The change of angle, has Anakin’s thrusting cock hitting Obi-Wans’ prostate, over and over against with each thrust.

It’s heaven. It’s hell. It’s sin though and through.

Sin that feels like heaven. It’s hot and hard and inside him. And he can’t stop, can’t stop wanting it.

Needing it. Craving it. Doing anything for it.  

The lovers stare into each other’s eyes as they move towards the edge of the clouds, ready to fall to earth and though it, till they’re in hell’s embrace.

Obi-Wan holds tight to the blonde anchor beneath him, and lets him carry them to the end.

Hair tangles, skin slaps together, hips piston together, Obi-Wan’s blood falls over metal fingers and onto white sheets.

Anakin’s human hand flies up and entwines into the soft auburn hair above him. “I love you,” he declares. “My brother, my brother,” he whispers.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he can’t help but reply.  

Muscles grip, hands grasp, mouths pant.

And then they both fall with a shout that surely embeds into the heavens.

**\--- // -- // --**

The Force looks at two of her most loyal children.

Anakin and Obi-Wan, one blonde and the other auburn haired. Entwined together, spent from their lovemaking, and sleeping in each other’s arms.

Their skin is slick, hair drying to skin, come and blood on the sheets.

Anakin is still inside of Obi-Wan.

The Force can’t help but marvel at the beauty of her creations. She dreamed them into existence, but she never imagined them to be so exquisite.

_*If this is sin,*_ she can’t help but think, _*then I shall embrace these sinners with an open heart.*_

The Force knows that she shouldn’t favor certain children over another, but she finds herself growing fonder and fonder of these sinners of hers.


End file.
